


Sleepy Afternoon

by Alopex



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alopex/pseuds/Alopex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parapines fluff; the two rest at the park after a long day together, sleepily basking in the evening sunlight. Encounter with friendly ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepy Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Goes with The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd; largely inspired by it, I’d recommend listening to it while reading, but you’re by no means obliged.

Norman snuggled deeper into his hoodie, reveling in the last warming rays of the setting sun. The summers in Gravity Falls were by no means cold, but today proved to be rather average in terms of weather. Yet Norman felt warm, inside and out; his new hoodie was still fuzzy on the inside, the park bench had a surprisingly comfortable shape, and nothing melted his heart like the sight of Dipper, who was stretched sleepily down the length of the bench, his head resting on Norman’s lap.

It was a lazy afternoon, and after a typical day of chasing mysteries, the two decided to crash on a bench at the local park. Apart from a few stragglers in the distance, the park was empty. Norman watched the few cars pass by down the road, silhouetted against the amber sky. The faint sounds of a soulful street band drifted to Norman’s ears. Through half-lidded eyes, the spiky-haired boy watched the slowly dipping, fiery orb of a sun crawling towards the horizon, the bright golds, crimsons, and magentas splashing across the sky, changing with each passing moment. He let out a contented sigh, feeling his whole body relax. Norman placed a hand over Dippers’, who had them laced over his chest, and, with his other hand, curled his fingers through the wavy locks of his boyfriend’s hair. The whole world appeared still and peaceful.

"Dip, what song are they playing?" Norman murmured. The song seemed to have grown louder.

"Mh? What song?" Dipper replied, eyes still closed, his voice thick with drowsiness.

Norman glanced around carefully without disturbing the sleepy boy on his lap. Sure enough, a trio of green figures floated in a rotating circle across the park. They drifted a few yards away from the bench were the boys were, and as they passed, a lanky, bearded guitarist with a floppy hat noticed Norman looking at him, smiled, and nodded at him.

Norman waited for a pause in their playing. “Lovely piece you’re playing,” he commented with a nod.

"Hmm~?" Dipper mumbled through his sleep.

"Go back to sleep, they’re ghosts," Norman whispered, running a hand through Dipper’s hair, who rumbled something and nuzzled deeper into Norman’s lap. Norman turned his attention back to the three figures, who stopped curiously. The guitarist hung behind a large African American woman with stunning curly locks of ebony hair and a shimmering black dress, tinted green from her ghostly state of being. She wielded a gleaming keyboard. Behind her, next to the guitarist was a quiet, shaggy-haired man with small round spectacles floating behind a set of drums.

The woman spoke, her voice rich and motherly. “So, ya can see us?” Norman nodded. “Why, how lovely! Ain’t a common thing fo’ us here folks. Only met one other who could see us, and that was long ago. Well, no matter to us, we jus’ play our music and move ‘bout town as we please. Sho’ gets lonely, but we gots each other and we gots our instruments and we is fine as we is.” The lady rambled in her pleasant drawl, Norman listening attentively. “We was playing in this here town one day, when something huge crashed through the place. Never knew a thing of what happened, ‘cept that it came from the woods. Next thing we know, we was floatin’ and green as a swamp. Well, as long as we can play, we all says, we can git along well enough. Oh!” She broke off suddenly, noticing Dipper lying on Norman’s lap and laughing a deep, warm, hearty chuckle. “Typical ol’ me, ramblin’ away. ‘S a rare day that we get ta meet on who can talk to us. We’ll leave ya two doves alone now.”

"I’ll make sure to stop by sometime, if you’d like," Norman offered.

"That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it be, fellas?" the woman addressed the other two musicians, who bobbed their heads. With that, they floated away, resuming their slow, drowsy playing, the woman wailing soulfully, melodically.

Norman closed his eyes, the sun warming his tired body. He ran his hand through Dipper’s hair, so much softer and fluffier than his own, he noticed, as he had many times. He could hear the leaves on the trees stirring in the gentle breeze, the quieting bustle of the town and a few faint chords of the ghosts’ music in the distance. Sure, Norman had experienced more intense, more passionate, more dramatic moments, but the quiet and calm and simplicity of this moment, the delightful way in which it dragged through the afternoon, was stunningly pleasant to the young boy. He cracked open his eyes slightly, gazing down at Dipper. His features were softened and relaxed as opposed to the concern typically etched on his face. His hands were relaxed, the tension gone from his muscles, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. His peace calmed Norman. As he closed his eyes again, he knew he couldn’t ask for anything better.

—

The musician ghosts hung around their favorite lamp pole, a nice, central spot with a good view of the park and a bit into the street of the town.

"My, they look so peaceful," the woman doted.

"Ain’t a very common thing to see, is it?" the drummer mused. "Then again, this town ain’t very common as it is."

"Nawp. Kind of nice to see such a pair, actually," the guitarist drawled.

"I hope they visit sometime. Would be nice to talk to live ‘uns. They look like kind folks," the singer sighed.

—

The sun dipped below the mountains, casting a faint pink glow across the sky, where the sliver of a crescent hung. Life stilled at dusk as the street lights flickered on, one by one. Soon, a pair of figures walked briskly, almost with a skip, down the path to the Mystery Shack, their hands clasped tightly. As they reached the crest of a hill on the road, the figures paused, marveling at the pastel sky, then glancing at each other fondly. After a few moments, they turned, and trotted off to the Shack in the pale pink light of the quiet evening.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr: http://obsidianchameleon.tumblr.com/post/46796028655/sleepy-afternoon


End file.
